


Rearranging Priorities

by Xomee



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Basch needs more of a personality besides honor, F/M, Kinda a retelling but not really, Non-Fighter OFC, Not Beta Read, POV Third Person, domestic life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29906577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xomee/pseuds/Xomee
Summary: Was his fate truly, to remain caged until his body withered or until Vayne fulfilled his goals and he no longer needed the disgraced captain - whichever came first. Another day, or night, passed in the dark of Nalbina, another day of failure, another day lost. Basch hoped for a day he would fulfill his oaths, and recapture the love he had surely lost.
Relationships: Basch fon Ronsenburg/Original Female Character(s)





	Rearranging Priorities

There was a special kind of buzz in the air. Some mixture of violent tension and delighted excitement. The first celebration of any kind since Her Royal Majesty's wedding some years prior, and it was being held for her indirect killers. So was the sentiment among the common peoples of Rabanstre.

Whatever excitement, violent or not, that existed on the streets was wholly absent in the kitchen of The Glass Cactus. Each cook down the line went about their preparations with a meticulousness not seen in their normal work. Ingredients were chopped, seasoned, and cooked perfectly, each dish being tasted over and over to assure the flavor was just so. An entire section of the kitchen had been commandeered for just packing the food into its travel cases. To ensure that nothing was over packed, more equipment had been brought in for transport, and multiple people had been hired to carry the extra crates. 

The owner of the restaurant had been pacing up and down the line. Eileen felt each pass of his eyes like a flash of sunburn on her neck. It was difficult to fall into the flow of her cutting with such scrutiny. What was normally a near mesmerizing task became tedious. 

“Migelo has done us an invaluable favor.” 

Has done you an invaluable favor. She continued to cut as her thoughts answered his statements. 

“This singular event could put us in the eyes of Arcadia's most wealthy.”

Thinking such reveals you have not spent much time among the “most wealthy.”

There had been a time not so long ago where such thoughts would never have come to her. Back when her words and actions had not only reflected on herself. Not that she had needed barbed words then. Respect had been freely given for no more a reason than she had married an honorable man. 

But Basch was no longer living, or honorable. 

“So everything must be perfect!” 

He says as though every other day we serve slop.

Migelo would not have talked up a restaurant who’s food couldn’t live up to it. Regardless the owner continued to speak over chiefs calling out cook times, requests for assistance and the general noise of a busy kitchen. 

The tension of a long shift was settling into her shoulders when one of the shift managers called for her. “Eileen, you’ll be helping set up.” 

“What?” that couldn't be right, she had already worked two doubles that week. 

“You said you wanted more hours. So here's your hours.” And he walked away before she ever got the chance to argue.

No one thinks it cruel to put me in the same room as Basch’s killers? Not that there was much heat left in that anger. The years had worn it down, and survival had in the end trumped her spite.

Maybe it was better they didn’t think on it. When it was remembered, she was rarely treated as the grieving widow, instead she was the betrayer they thought her husband to be.

Not that it matters. Gil was gil, and a job was required to make it. She was still expected to pay rent for her small room in Lowtown. So she would show up for the next shift with no complaints save those in her head.

Passing off her neat stack of perfect vegetable sticks she turned to the Squee to her right and said, “I’m going to eat and take a break before I have to be at the place.” 

Black eyes looked up from her own bowl of fixings. “Ay, maybe think of a wipe down eh? You smell of onion.” Her flat snout wiggled, she snorted once, “and oil.” 

“On me, I’m sure it’s a perfectly charming scent.” Eileen smiled, old wit coming back easily.

A short chain of snorts followed her out of the kitchen. The dining room was mostly empty save for a singular table. Which was occupied with a few of the staff and the new hired hands going over deliveries and set up. 

Normally she would prepare her own meal and inhale it in the corner of the kitchen but with the state everyone was in it seemed unwise to go about her routine. Instead she’d search out a bench and lunch before reappearing for her job. Just over an hour wasn’t enough time for her feet to really rest but it would have to work. 

Out the front door and onto the streets of the royal city. Which were no more busy than any other day. At least not so far from the main circuit. A few people were loitering along the walkway, locked in conversation. With only one or two moving along the stone arches. One of which was a young blond hume girl with a box in her arms, heading right towards Eileen. Penelo in her jumper and feathered braids was working as hard as ever it seemed. 

“Eileen.” She called out. “How’s it going?”

“It’s been a long morning, and the day looks longer still.” The older woman gave a tired smile.

“What? Why?”

“I’ve been told to help setup for the fete this evening.” 

“I was hoping you could drop by the store. Been a while since we’ve seen you. This new job really is taking up most of your time, huh?”

“Unfortunately Migelo spoke true, this job is demanding.” Thinking on the long hours she had already worked. “But the pay is fair, and within the year I should have enough saved to move into something more permanent.”

“That’d be great!” She lifted the box she had been holding, “let me drop this off and maybe we can get lunch? Haven’t gotten to speak to you like this since you stopped working at the shop.” 

“I’ll wait here for you then.” She watched Penelo slip into the restaurant as memories of only a month prior surfaced. Of hungry nights, and scraping by as she was pushed closer to homelessness. Migelo’s charity could only stretch so far. There was an offer for help from old friends, but Eileen’s pride worked against her. She would not easily accept their help. 

The door opened and the blonde hume stepped out. “Ready?” 

Late afternoon had not yet bled into evening when she approached the service entrance at the palace. A much less lavish doorway than the great gate and stone courtyard which more esteemed guests used. Though it still held the usual Dalmascan flourishes in craven stone door frames and ornate fixtures.

Branching tunnels were used for staff to remain invisible whilst traversing the grounds. Following the signs, it was only a pair of turns and a singular long straight until she reached the kitchens where she received clearer instructions. 

And so the hours passed with Eileen bent over trays of bite sized flatbread. Smearing just the right amount of savory spreads, so as to not cause a mess, and lightly sprinkling their corresponding toppings.

The ache that had started beneath her shoulder blades had engulfed her spine, working its way down to her lower back. While the arches of her feet were beginning to feel as if they had flattened accompanied by swelling of her ankles. The message her body was sending was quite clear: three double shifts was too much.

By the time she was released from her shift all Eileen wanted was a long deep sleep. But first came the walk home. So she would have to settle for leaning heavily against the stonewall of the hallway for the time being. She stared up at the ceiling under the bright yellow light of the crystals for lack of more interesting things to look at.

Sweat had collected on the back of her neck, clinging to what hair had escaped her braids and hat, some raced down to soak the back of her uniform. Her eyes felt sunken in from the strain of staring into polished silver all evening. And exhaustion slumped her posture into a shape her mother would have frowned at. 

So when the attention seeking calls started she was certain they were not aimed at her. They echoed down the hall with the clank of imperial armor. But when the voices drew closer and stopped just outside her personal space there was no denying their intended target. 

“Aye miss, you on break too?” The voice from the helmet might have been male.

“Join us. No need to spend a celebration alone.” The other was in more intricate armor. Not so flashy as a judge or general, but still several stations above his friend.

“I’m sorry to say but my break is not so long as to allow much celebration.” A small lie, but hopefully enough to pacify them.

“But enough time to grab a bit? Food’s not as fancy as what you’re cooking but we help still get something warm.” His words were much more rushed than was typical of the Arcadian accent. 

There was no polite backing down. And the impolite way would likely throw her into more trouble. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had disappeared to Nalbina for offending an imperial’s pride. 

Straightening herself, Eileen tucked in a few escaped hairs. “The second floor eatery? Lead the way gentlemen.” Perhaps there was an escape she could find along the way.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't promise quick updates, but I've been sucked back into this world and am dying for some content for this man who gets shoved on the back burner just a bit too often for my liking. So here we are, the first chapter of what is likely to be a fairly short fic if my outline is to be believed.  
> If you see an error, I'm sorry I really do try to find them all but they're a bit like roaches, they just keep popping up. Feel free to point it out and I'll get to stomping.


End file.
